


my light in the dark

by CapriciousCrab



Series: tumblr prompts [2]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic, Slice of Life, mentions of vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-27 06:51:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18733852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapriciousCrab/pseuds/CapriciousCrab
Summary: He wishes that someone would swoop into his bedroom and make him well, to rub the ache from his back while wiping his face down with a cool flannel. He longs for cool fingers to run through his messy hair before massaging his scalp.He wants Phil.





	my light in the dark

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to blackteelester for reading this over for me 💚

 

The flat is silent, the only sound to be heard is the muted hum of the heating cycling on and off periodically. He’s curled up into a miserable ball beneath the duvet, his head buried beneath his pillow as he tries to swallow down the nausea that’s rising in his throat. His stomach roils as clammy sweat dampens his forehead and the palms of his hands, a spike of pain catching him off guard.

 

He rolls off the bed and hits the floor running, barely making it to the toilet before losing the contents of his stomach. He whimpers through the spasms and clenches his eyes tight, involuntary tears seeping through as he wishes for the thousandth time that Phil was home.

 

Oh, Phil had offered to cut short his evening with his parents and come home but a combination of guilt and embarrassment made Dan turn him down. He’s a 27-year-old man for god’s sake and shouldn’t need his boyfriend to sit by his side patting his hand. But that’s exactly what he wants right now.

 

He stands on shaky legs and flushes the handle, moving to the sink to rinse his mouth and splash cool water onto his face. A quick glance in the mirror makes him grimace; the pale face, bloodshot eyes, and sweaty curls making him briefly glad that Phil isn’t here to see him like this.

 

But vanity gives way to misery once he falls back into bed. His stomach is still cramping and he’s freezing, his teeth chattering as he shivers under the mound of blankets covering him. He grabs his phone from where he dropped it next to him on the mattress and almost smiles when he sees the string of texts waiting for him.

 

P- how you doing babe?

 - do you have a fever? you should check just in case

 - don't forget to drink some water

 

D- i’m fine phil

 - well not fine but u know what i mean

 - it’s just a stomach thing

 - u were right nothing good comes from dairy

 

P- :(

 

Another wave of nausea has him gritting his teeth as he flings his phone onto the side table. Hoping for relief he turns onto his stomach and buries his face in Phil’s pillow, breathing in the lingering scent of his shampoo. It does nothing to calm the fire in his gut but it brings him a measure of comfort. At least until the next bout of vomiting.

 

*

 

The hours pass in a sweat-soaked blur. He’s lost count of how many times he’s been ill, only knows that his body is sore, his head is pounding and that he’s desperate for relief. The half-glass of water he’d swallowed down had come right back up and left his mouth sticky and sour with the lingering taste of bile.

 

He wishes that someone would swoop into his bedroom and make him well, to rub the ache from his back while wiping his face down with a cool flannel. He longs for cool fingers to run through his messy hair before massaging his scalp.

He wants Phil.

 

Miserable and alone, he lays sprawled on the bathroom floor in the pitch dark and presses his cheek to the cool tiles. It's disgusting, _he's_ disgusting, but he no longer cares.  Afraid to move for fear of setting off another round of retching, he closes his eyes and prays for sleep. He just wants his misery to end.

 

Lost in his own feverish thoughts he doesn't hear the rattle of keys at the door or the sound of footsteps coming down the hall, only becoming aware that he not alone when he hears the soft, sympathetic noise Phil makes from the door.

 

“Oh, Dan…”

 

Dan opens sore, gritty eyes to see Phil hovering at his side, the soft glow of the bedroom light behind him. He could literally cry right now, would bust out in relieved sobs if he wasn't so damn dry, but all he can do is stare at Phil helplessly.

 

“I'm sick,” he croaks weakly. “It won't stop.”

 

“I know, baby, I know. Let's get you back into bed, ok?”

 

Dan groans when Phil helps him up, his head swimming as he sways drunkenly. He leans heavily on Phil as they shuffle back to the bed and lets him pull the duvet up to his chin.

 

His eyes fly open when he feels Phil moving away, reaching out to grasp at Phil's arm weakly.

 

“Don't leave me!” he begs. Maybe he'll be embarrassed by his neediness when he's well again but right now he doesn't give a fuck. He can't stand the thought of being alone again.

 

Phil sits next to him immediately, his hand coming up to rest on Dan's forehead. It's wonderfully cool and feels so good that he can't help but push into it slightly, seeking relief for the heat that's in his head.

 

“You've got a fever,” he says softly. He cups Dan's flushed cheek in his hand and strokes his temple, smiling at Dan's soft sigh. “I'm going to get a few things but I'll be right back, ok?”

 

He closes his eyes again when Phil leaves the room and tries to ignore the way his stomach cramps and aches. He groans as it builds, bringing his knees up in an effort to relieve the pain. He can hear Phil clattering down the hall and calls out for him.

 

“Phil, Phil I'm gonna be sick again,” he moans desperately. He doesn't want to sick all over the bed but doesn't have the strength to move anymore. “I need a bin!”

 

“I'm here, I'm here. Shh, try and relax for me. That's it, there we go. Press your tongue to the roof of your mouth and breathe through your nose. Slow. Calm. There we go, there we go.”

 

Phil talks him through the worst of it, his hands constantly moving- brushing his hair back from his forehead, wiping a cool cloth over his face, bringing a cup of lukewarm tea to his lips. He does all the things Dan had wished for earlier and if he had tears to shed he would weep in gratitude.

 

Falling back into a fitful doze, he's vaguely aware of Phil moving around the room to tidy the signs of illness. The window slides up to let in the cool night breeze, sweeping away the stale scent of sickness that permeates the room. The sound of running water in the bathroom as he rinses out the flannel, the soft shuffle of Phil's socks against the floor as he walks back to Dan's side; soft ambient noises that he's distantly aware of as they lull him into a deep, healing sleep he so desperately needs.

 

*

 

He wakes to the sound of birds chirping and singing outside of his window. The curtains are drawn tightly closed so that not even a glimmer of daylight slips through, the muted light gentle on his tired eyes. He lays still and takes stock of his body, cataloging the aches and pains of muscles sore and stiff but the vicious nausea of yesterday is gone.

 

Slipping from the bed he heads for the shower, desperate to wash the feel of illness from his body. He brushes his teeth twice, scrubbing them until the toothbrush squeaks and his mouth feels less like the inside of a dirty shoe.

 

The bed has been stripped of the dirty linens when he's done, the curtains pulled back to allow fresh air to fill the room. Dan's favorite candle is burning and his phone is plugged into the charger, a fresh glass of water waiting for him on the side table. He doesn't feel like getting properly dressed so he pulls on an oversized jumper and joggers before going in search of Phil.

 

He finds him standing in front of the stove, scrambling a pan of eggs while he sings something about someone in his DMs. His hips wiggle to whatever beat he hears in his head and Dan can't help but laugh.

 

Phil jumps at the sound and spins around with a look of surprise on his face.

 

“What are you doing out of bed?” he scolds, setting his spatula down before coming to stand before Dan.

 

He stands patiently while Phil eyes him for lingering signs of illness, his hand coming up to check Dan's forehead for fever. Dan feels much better but he knows how Phil's anxiety works, the way it can twist a nasty stomach bug into something serious and fearful, so he'll let him hover and soothe.

 

“I was looking for you. Will you come back to bed with me?”

 

“Just let me finish these eggs.  Think you can you handle a bit of toast?”

 

His stomach grumbles a bit at the thought and Phil giggles as he turns back to the pan.

 

“Here, take your tea and go get comfortable. Grab the laptop and pick something to watch.”

 

When he joins him a bit later he brings Dan's breakfast; the soft, fluffy eggs and lightly-toasted bread delicious and light. He sips his tea and lets a drowsy contentment sweep over him as he sinks lower and lower into his pillow.

 

He presses a kiss to Phil's shoulder before resting his head there, tossing his leg across Phil's hip as they settle in for a nap. He'll thank Phil later, he thinks, even though Phil will be cross about it. But he wants Phil to know just how much Dan appreciates the way he cares for him.

 

But that's something for later. He yawns and listens to the way Phil's breathing deepens as his body goes lax, the sound of Buffy playing softly in the background. He times his breathing to Phil's, closes his eyes, and follows Phil into sleep.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> you can like/reblog [here](https://capriciouscrab.tumblr.com/post/184692843630/my-light-in-the-dark-rating-t-words-16k) if you like :)


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